


Moonlight

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [38]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Love Letters, Marriage Proposal, Modern, Romance, Slice of Life, Spooky Month, Storm's End, Supernatural - Freeform, Train Station, Vampires, meet cute, plot holes, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Supernatural - In which a stolen letter brings Stannis more than he could have hoped for...Picset is viewableHERE
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon & Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon/Sansa Stark
Series: Stansa One Shots [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405915
Comments: 27
Kudos: 113





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> _*takes a deep breath*_ IT'S SPOOKY MONTH (still)!!!!!!!!!!! Welcome back for another episode of "Spooky story time with Wulfy"! Vampires, werewolves, witches, OH MY! We've already seen Roose the Monster Hunter, we sighed over Sandor the Hunter, now its time for the Mannis to make his appearance! This is fluffy little 'meet cute' of sorts, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> If you're on discord, feel free to come and join the [Red Wulf's Pack](https://discord.gg/bsRauMj/)! I can't wait to talk with you there! There might even be exciting new challenges and stories on the horizon!
> 
> As always, I don't consider myself a writer. This is something I do for fun. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors--they're all my own. :D :P Thank you for reading!

**c.1847**

Three days. 

She’d travelled three days, six hours, and twenty-two and a half minutes...for this. An abandoned train station in the dark of night with not another being in sight. Lovely. Just lovely.

What was she doing here again? Ah yes, succumbing to yet another bout of madness. Surely by now she was more than fit for Bedlam. First she’d followed through on her hair-brained idea, publishing multiple advertisements in marital publications across Westeros. She'd had great hope at first, but in the end she received only one reply. After his initial inquiry, they’d exchanged dozens of letters and now she was here in Storm’s End. For him. Perhaps she had at last abandoned her senses completely in travelling so far away to marry a man that she’d never met before. 

No, she squared her shoulders, she did what she had to do to escape Lysa and Petyr in The Vale. She went to great pains to hide her letters, taking a private office in town, and she had left no trail for them to follow should they attempt to seek her out. She could do this. There was no going back; not to The Vale, not to the North--this was home now, for better or worse.

Besides, she already knew much of his character from the letters that they’d exchanged over the last several moons. She knew the man she was here to meet was intelligent, well-versed on a variety of subjects, and she felt as if he actually understood her and cared for her well-being. The only thing she could do now was hope that he found her just as interesting. 

“Miss? Miss, can I help you?”

“Yes, thank you” she turned to face the owner of the voice, a small man with an odd sort of beard. “I am to meet Lord Baratheon, he is expecting me. Can you point me in his direction??” she asked and the man paled, visibly shaken. 

“L-Lord Baratheon?”

“Yes, sir” she nodded, holding tightly to her reticule. “Lord Stannis---” 

“Lord Stannis” the man stumbled back then, eyes wide as he retreated towards the ticket offices. 

“Yes, sir. Can you help me?” she repeated but the man turned and scurried away, leaving her alone on the train platform. She huffed, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Bugger!” 

She stood alone on the wooden platform for what seemed like an eternity. The man never reappeared--in fact, the light in his office had even dimmed out completely. Even the train had moved on, whistling out its next destination into the darkness before it too vanished on the horizon. Looking both ways, she found herself utterly alone and her stomach sank a little as reality began to set in. Beyond the platform she could hear the ocean as they crashed into the rocky cliffs that she’d just travelled along. She couldn’t wait to see them, it had been many years since she’d seen the water. 

“Miss. Stark,” a deep, melodic voice cut into her maudlin musings and she turned to face the stranger. 

“Yes?” she replied, trying to make out his shape in the shadows of the night. 

“Forgive my tardiness, I was delayed by the inevitability of the slowly setting sun” he continued, boot steps coming closer until a large, powerful man emerged from the darkness. He was tall--taller even than The Hound, and lean with sharp features that somehow formed a handsome--if unreadable face. From the tip of his hat to the polished toes of his hessians, he looked exactly how she would imagine the hero in a gothic dime novel would.

“Oh” Sansa gasped, a hand rising to cover her chest. “You gave me a fright. Yes, I am Miss. Stark, and you--”

“Lord Stannis Baratheon, at your service” he bowed his head as he introduced himself and she nearly gasped in shock. _This_ was the man she was to marry? This...formidable mountain of a man? How could a man this imposing be the one who wrote such lovely letters and words that had captured her heart so swiftly?

“Lord Baratheon” she said softly. Wishing to see him better, she reached up to slide the pin from her hat, removing the simple grey travelling hat from her neatly styled hair. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance at last” she stepped closer. 

“I am honored to welcome you to Storm’s End. Honored that you are here” his eyes, a deep and stormy color that she couldn’t pinpoint in the light, flickered to her trunk. “Is that all you brought with you?” 

“It’s all I have in the world,” she informed him, lowering her hat to her waist, focusing on replacing their pin rather than allowing him to witness the embarrassment in her eyes. 

“Well, we’ll shall remedy that in due time” he said simply, stepping closer to offer her his arm. “Shall we venture homeward then?”

“Of course” she shifted her hat into her opposite hand and carefully took his offered arm, letting her gloved hand rest on the fine wool of his jacket. As they walked, she couldn’t help but allow her gaze to study his profile, to admire the strong cut of his nose and the well-kept hair of his sideburns. The coachman hurried past them to retrieve Sansa’s trunk, following their path to the street. Stepping into the moonlight, she could see the full moon reflected in his eyes and quickly determined that his eyes were shockingly blue. How wonderfully unexpected. 

“Here we are” Stannis opened the door of the carriage, one emblazoned with a bright, fiery stag sigil and helped her into the plush black interior. Black coach, black clothing, black horses--it seemed that Stannis’ favorite color was black. 

"You came for me yourself" she whispered before she could stop herself. 

"I did" he turned to face her, carefully taking her hat to set it on the seat inside. "In such matters, it is a gentleman's duty to ensure a lady's safety.

"Thank you" she met his eyes, a genuine smile crossing her lips. No impersonal coachman or servant would escort her the last leg of her journey, instead she would take it with him--together.

"There is no need to thank me," he took her hand and helped her into the carriage, ensuring she was comfortable before he removed his own hat and tossed it inside. She caught a glimpse of black and silver hair as he slipped into the seat opposite her, as propriety demanded, and soon the coach was underway. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, anticipation and excitement building as she looked into the eyes of her future husband. 

Stannis watched her from his position beside the fireplace, admiring the way the firelight illuminated her fiery hair and the way her figure was perfectly encased in her modest travelling dress. In her letters she had informed him that she was ‘passable’ in features, but that couldn’t be further than the truth. Miss. Sansa Stark--soon to be Lady Sansa Baratheon, was absolutely stunning. There was no mistaking it. 

She was pleasantly tall, slender to the point of being willowy with a spine of Northern steel that didn’t break when carrying the burdens of the world. No, Sansa Stark was incredibly lovely and shockingly strong. He couldn't help but admire the way she had taken control over her own future---however risky her actions had been, when her living situation with her aunt and uncle began to deteriorate. She had told him of her shattered relationship with her aunt and of the lecherous way her uncle had begun to watch her, both of which sparked fury in his chest. Fury and a deep-seated need to protect her at all costs. 

Which was why he now needed to protect her from himself.

“Before we wed--should you still wish to do so, there is something I must confess to you,” Stannis broke the comfortable silence between them. Before they married he would explain everything to her, even if it meant she would run from him rather than to him.

“Confess?” she looked around the room as if she expected someone else to appear. She set her tea cup back onto its saucer and set them on the side table, letting her hands rest in her lap as she faced him with unflappable poise.

“Your letter--your original letter, was not intended for me” he began, seeing no need to live the farce now that she was finally here. 

“What?” her eyes, so innocent and vibrant, went wide. 

“I am not Edric Storm, as you know now from my letters. However, it was an untruth when I told you that I had initially used a pseudonym to protect my title,” Stannis explained. “You see, Edric is the very drunk and very lecherous man that works for the blacksmith in town and it was he that answered your advertisement. In fact, in the moons since he contacted you, he has already found and wed another. I cannot regret that he never received your reply. You see, I came across your letter by chance while hunting one night and immediately became intoxicated by the scent.” 

“Scent?”

“Your scent” he continued. “It clung to the parchment and called to me, like a siren of the sea. I plucked it from the post office without hesitation. Throwing myself upon the rocks, as it were.” 

“So you took the letter intended for Edric and answered it yourself?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” she stood, shoulders proud as she crossed to stand before him and the fire. Even in her heeled boots, he loomed over her, reminding him how delicate she truly was.

“Because I have lived a very long time, Sansa, and in all my years I have never smelled anything as lovely as you” he raised a hand, allowing his fingers to trace her cheek. “And I had to have you for my own” she inhaled roughly at his words, but did not lean away from his touch. 

“How could you smell...me?” she whispered. 

“The same way that I can hear your heart racing within your breast. The same way that I could all but taste your fear on the train platform, but detect none of it now while you are alone with me.”

“The same reason the man at the station ran from me when I spoke your name” she added, lifting her jaw in determination. 

“You are far more clever than you gave yourself credit for.” 

“I’ve been told I am a dullard--in many ways.” 

“You are far from dull,” he countered. “In fact, I would venture that you’ve already pieced it together.” 

“You’re one of them” she said softly, but with confidence. “One of the Night King’s men.” 

“I am, and have been for several centuries” he confirmed. “I was one of the first and now I am one of the oldest left in existence. I was there at his rise, just as I was there at his fall. His curse on the land is an old one--a rare one, but his hold remains.”

“And you’ve lived here since the war?” she motioned to the grand stone estate in which they now stood.

“It is a solitary existence” he nodded. 

“You’ve been alone all this time?” her eyes held something akin to sadness and he took that as a good sign. She hadn’t run from him, hadn’t broken their tentative engagement--perhaps she could truly understand. 

“I have never married nor taken a mate or companion.” 

“Why me? Why now?” 

“I was not searching for you, something I now regret. But I knew it the moment I smelled you--that you would be perfection” he admitted, shifting closer. “Your letters only confirmed that the ache newly awakened in my chest could only be satisfied by calling you my own. Word by word you were revealed to me, candid and exposed to me, and I could not help myself. I mean to keep you at my side forever, if you’ll permit me to.”

“You mean…” 

“Stay with me, Sansa” he asked her softly, his fingers cupping her chin. “Live your life beside me in the moonlight? I am the man you’ve been writing to these five moons, everything I wrote to you was the truth. I told you things I have never told another.” 

“As I did to you.” 

“Marry me? Stay at my side forever?”

“Stannis…” she closed more of the distance between them. “I fell in love with you before I ever saw your face or heard your voice.” Her hand rose then, the slender porcelain of her fingers tracing over the fabric of his cravat to cup his jaw. Her touch was warm--so warm, and he couldn’t help but lean into it. To savor it. Centuries he'd spent alone, searching for some sense of purpose or peace, he finally he had found it. 

“As I did with you” Stannis said softly, his cool hand gently settling at the nape of her neck. “It has been so long since I’ve felt true warmth” he added and her chest ached for him. He has been along for so long, lost in the cold. She could see the sadness in the depth of his eyes, feel it in the way he nuzzled into her touch. 

She knew that feeling. Knew it all too well, in fact. She had spent five years in The Vale, having been sent to her aunt immediately when sickness spread through Winterfell like wildfire. When everyone succumbed, she was left alone with a mad aunt and an ‘uncle’ that had begun to look at her in a way that made her stomach turn. She knew what she had risked, putting herself out there for the marriage mart. It was dangerous and not all were as fortunate as she had been. Not everyone had found their 'Stannis'.

She had felt connected to Stannis through the written word, felt as if he understood her somehow and now she knew why. They were both alone in this world, both searching for someone who could chase away the chill of loneliness with unfailing affection and bone-deep understanding. Someone who would accept her love and return it.

Did it scare her that Stannis was a man of the Night's King--a vampire? No. In truth it was a comfort that she did not realize that she needed. Stannis was not human, therefore he could not be taken from her by human disease or suffering. She would not have to watch as sickness consumed him, would never have to bury him in the hard, frozen ground. She knew what society said of them, called them ‘leeches’ and ‘bloodsuckers’, made them out to be creatures only of violence. But there was no violence in Stannis’ eyes, only a silent plea for acceptance. For love. 

“I’m here now” she assured him, stepping close enough that their bodies touched, barely a breath between them. “I am here now and I am not leaving.” 

“I have never been a man to stomach lies,” he said softly. “And it pained me greatly to deceive you--” 

“You’ve made amends for that now by telling me the truth” she reasoned. “And you offered me a choice in telling me before we wed. Truthfully Stannis, I cannot be upset by a deception that brought me to you.” 

“Your forgiving heart is more than I deserve” he replied. 

“But it is _yours_ all the same” she smiled. 

“I am a very fortunate man” the arm that had been hanging at his side rose to wrap around her back, resting just above her waist. She had never been held like this, with gentle strength and mutual affection, and she imagined that she wouldn’t have fitted against anyone else the way she did Stannis. 

“Perhaps the Old Gods have taken pity on us, entwining our fates so that we will no longer have to bear this world alone” she mused and as if Stannis had read her mind, his arm tightened around her, pressing their bodies together. Her hands came to rest on either side of his neck, the soft fabric of his cravat tickling her thumbs. 

“A perfect fit. It is as if we are cut from the same cloth” his lips curled into a small smile. “Two pieces long-parted that have finally returned to where they should have always been. Complete at last” he spoke and she felt her heart race, cheeks flushing as she recalled other words of affection--these ones written, ones that she cherished. Within her trunk was a pile of letters wrapped with her mother’s hair ribbon, all of them written in Stannis’ strong hand. They were her prized possessions, and no one letter more so than the last to arrive; one that had included a train ticket and a proposal of marriage. She had packed immediately and on the night of the train’s scheduled departure, she had walked to the train station beneath the moonlight with great haste.

“You are so beautiful” Stannis’ whisper pulled her from her memories to see him examining her intently. “Porcelain and fire” he stroked the flesh beneath her ear with his thumb, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Stannis” she whispered his name on a breathless sigh, leaning into his strength. 

“I know I’ve asked you before and I am confident that your arrival on tonight’s train was my answer” he paused. “But I ask again, Miss. Sansa Stark, will you consent to marry me? To be my bride and stay with me forever?”

“I will,” she promised and she felt the tension seep from his shoulders. “And will you...will you make me like you?” 

“I will. I will and then I will never have to suffer this life without you--not again” he promised, his eyes darting to her lips and back. “May I be permitted to kiss you?” 

“Please” she all but whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut as Stannis closed the final gap between them, lowering his lips to hers. Though his lips were cooler than her own, they felt wonderful against her own, tasting of something heady and unique. Soon Stannis’ arms were around her, her arms looped around his neck in return as they drank deeply of each other, melting into their shared affection and building passion. 

**Present Day**

“Stannis” the gentle, coaxing voice of his wife reached his ears a moment before her hands slipped over his shoulders, wrapping around him in a hug from behind. “It’s late.” 

“Is it?” he glanced at the clock on the corner of his computer’s monitor, surprised at how much time had passed. “I didn’t realize.” 

“I know” Sansa nuzzled his cheek. “Leave your chapters be for now and come to bed?” she asked, releasing him from her embrace. Once free, he rotated his leather office chair to face her, not at all surprised to find her in another delicate lace concoction that sent a bolt of lust straight through him.

“Well now” he pulled her into his lap, her answering giggle making him smile as it always did. “This isn’t what you were wearing earlier.” 

“Oh, these old things?” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, snuggling to his chest. 

“173 years and you have never ceased to surprise me” he held her tightly. 

“I can’t let us be _that_ old married couple now, can I?” she teased. 

“Never” he kissed her temple. 

“173 years” she sighed. “Has it really been so long?” 

“It has” he nodded. “A lot has changed since that night on the train platform” he added and she nodded in agreement. They were both very aware of how much the world had changed, and not all for the better. The ‘Night King’s Men’--the vampires were all now something of legend, most having been hunted and killed or simply vanishing into the Far North. Most humans nowadays would never see or meet one in their lifetime, and most brushed off the stories of the Night's King as just that--a story. It was far from how it had been in Sansa’s time. They were only creatures of legend now, and it had been some decades since they’d encountered another of their kind.

Such changes had forced them to adapt their own lives to the new world. The grand estate at Storm’s End that had been their home for some many years, was now a registered historical site and private museum, filled with artifacts and publications of a world long gone. Instead, Stannis and Sansa Baratheon now lived in a posh apartment downtown, where Stannis worked as a novelist under a pseudonym and Sansa worked as his editor. 

Horses had been replaced by cars, letters by text messages, manners with hedonism and self-indulgence; all of which they both greatly missed. While their lives together had not always been easy, they had always been able to turn to each other for support and the strength to carry on. Stannis was beyond certain that he could weather anything as long as he had Sansa in his arms at the end of every day.

“And you are even lovelier now than you were the first moment I laid eyes on you beneath the moonlight” his hand smoothed down her bare thigh, cupping her knee. 

“I could hardly believe that you were to be my husband” she stroked his cheek, lingering on the stubble of a beard that had grown in today. “That such an imposing man held concealed the heart of a poet.” 

“You bring it out in me” he replied with a smile, sliding his fingers to the back of her knee, pulling her close. “Just as you’ve brought out passion and love.” 

“I would blame you for that passion, husband.” 

“Says the woman clad in pure sin.”

“Women’s lingerie has certainly improved, I will give it that” she smirked. 

“I don’t know” he countered with a smirk of his own. “I think we rather enjoy the nights when you wear something for old times’ sake.” 

“Nearly two centuries and I’ve never had a reason to complain” she twirled a finger through his hair. “My _Lord Husband_ has always taken great care of me.” 

“As is my duty and honor” he slid his arms under her back and knees, effortlessly lifting her as he stood. He carried her through the penthouse to their bedroom, lowering her carefully across the counterpane. While they may no longer reside in his estate along the cliffs of Storm’s End--or require much sleep, they had taken great care to move their wooden four-poster bed to their new penthouse residence. Though the mattress may have been replaced several times over, this was still their marriage bed; one they delighted in sharing as often as they could. 

He had married Sansa two days after her arrival in Storm’s End, unwilling to wait a second longer than necessary to call her his bride. On their wedding night he had changed her, making her the first and only being that he had turned to this way of life. A well-placed bite at the base of her throat simultaneously pulled her into this immortal life and marked her as his mate, his bride for all eternity. As they settled into life as husband and wife, he also taught her to hunt and feed. He instructed her in how to remove herself from the mind of humans so that she could feed without having to kill. Their life was not one of violence but feeding only as a necessity. She had adapted to this new life with shocking ease, fitting into this world as if she was always meant to be in it. 

With each passing day his love for her had only grown, deepened, and evolved beyond anything imaginable. From the moment of her arrival, the desolate loneliness his life had become had vanished, chased away by her vibrant smile and loving presence. 

“As much as I adore these” he slipped a finger under the edge of her pale yellow lace panties, tugging at the elastic. “It is time to discard them.” 

“Is it?” she wiggled closer, the fiery curtain of her hair framing her face where it had spread out across the pillows. “I think you can see to that well enough, _Lord Husband_ ” she always used that term to tease him, knowing he could never resist the sound of the words on her lips. Once a man trapped in solitude, the reminder that he was now a beloved husband and mate always sent his blood racing. He made quick work of her barely-there lingerie, tossing them away with a now-deft flick of the wrist before divesting himself of his own clothing. 

“Of course I can, my _Lady Wife_ ” Stannis growled, rolling her beneath him, settling into the cradle of her thighs. “By now I am quite adept at removing your clothing. No matter the current fashion trends.” 

“Of course you are, you mischievous devil” she laughed, wrapping her legs around him. 

“Your devil” he corrected, his laughter melting into a groan as she rocked against him. 

“ _My_ devil” she purred in agreement. Stannis threaded his fingers through hers, holding her arms above her head, pinning her to the mattress. 

“Now hush and let me love you” he whispered as she arched against him in that sinful way of hers.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/
> 
> Or you can join the Pack [HERE](https://discord.gg/bsRauMj/) on discord!


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